I have a theory.

I am beginning to believe that I black out on a regular basis. I lose consciousness and another person takes over my body much like those ever popular soap opera cases of multiple personality disorder.

Why do I think this? Because there is obviously someone other than me parenting my children. Someone who loves it when they bicker and fight. Someone who immediately caves in at the first sign of tears. Someone who gives in to whining on a regular basis.

If this weren't the case, my darling children, who have lived with me the entirety of their little lives, would have certainly figured out that whining is a sure fire way to make this mother dig her heels in. Asking me the same question 14 times is not going to get you a different answer. And changing to a cry or whine while asking time number 15 is definitely not going to work in your favor.

Because they continue to do these things, I am certain that my mind is regularly overruled by this other, hidden personality who consistently caves in to such obvious, and pathetic attempts at manipulation. Otherwise the FarmHands would have given it up years ago.

This Summer needs a name.

A name that denotes all manner of evil.  A name that tags it every more as a summer not worth repeating.  A name that leaves no doubt as to the horribleness of it.  I'll open up the comments to suggestions.

We started off good.  I had a new job to look forward to.  We had our first 4-H fairs to attend.  We had a swimming pool, heat, and sunshine.  And then things started going south...and not in the I-get-to-go-south-to-visit-friends-and-family kind of way.

First Grandma M&M discovered the colon cancer she battled 36 years ago was back.  Waiting and waiting and waiting finally gave way to a date for her to have surgery.  May 29th she went in.  Things went well.  Recovery was going to take a long time, but she was going to be fine.

The next morning found me in the doctor's office in pain.  That afternoon I was on the operating table.  It wasn't the appendicitis nor the appendectomy that was the hard part.  It was the 6 weeks of recovery after abdominal surgery that knocked me down.

In the meantime, Grandma didn't recover as quickly nor as well as we thought she would.  She went to a nursing home to recover.  Mama shuttled back & forth between the two of us and in the process hurt her foot.

Then I ended up in the hospital for a longer stay and still don't quite know the cause.  Colitis is not something I'd wish on my worst enemy and something I hope and pray is not recurring in my case.

Just over a week ago #1 Son began complaining about his under arms itching.  When I looked at them I discovered he had brown, scaly patches under his arms.  He's very prone to skin issues so I told him to use the cream our doctor has prescribed many times in the past.  After a few days they turned red & raw. I told him to leave the cream alone and we'd show the dermatologist when he goes on the 17th.

Monday showed we couldn't wait for the 17th.  He was in so much pain he couldn't lower his arms.  Thank the Lord the dermatologist had a cancellation that afternoon.

I willingly admit I didn't want to go.  I hate the drive.  I hate dragging all 4 kids that far to spend 3 minutes in an office with a nurse practitioner (nothing against the NP- she's really good).  But I was beyond unprepared when she suggested his skin issues might be caused by diabetes.

Yesterday we went to the hospital for a fasting blood draw.  The tech took an extra vial of blood in case the doctor decided to have an A1C done later.  I'm glad she did.  His blood sugar was 105- only slightly elevated.  The doctor's office wanted to wait 3-4 weeks and do another draw.  I told them to order the A1C.  They did.

Today we got the call that his A1C was 5.7.   Normal is below 6.  Now doc wants a finger stick every morning for 30 days to see what we're looking at.

To be entirely honest, I am not handling this well.  I can be sick.  I can have surgery.  I can spend my summer recovering from what ever.  But not my son.  He cannot go through this.  He cannot spend time worrying and fretting.  He cannot be scared and uncertain.  These things are not OK with me.

I know he will be fine no matter how the test come out.  I know that the changes that may be necessary will not be the end of us.  I know that we can deal with this.  But right now I'm done.  I'm over it all.  I'm sick to death of worry and fright and sickness.

I am ready for this summer to end.

Being Marcy

The school where the FarmHands attend and I work on occasion, is a part of a county wide school district.  There's only one other school in the entire district, though.  It's a k-12 in the town where Husband works (about 20 minutes south of us).  Since I'm subbing for the entire district, I can be called into either school.  Tuesday of this week was the first time I've been asked to work at the K-12 building.

I didn't like it.

OK, I guess I should expand on that.  I didn't like it Tuesday.  Since then, it's been fine.

First of all, every time I've worked at the FarmHands' school I've known the night before that I was going to work.  Tuesday I got a call at 6 am asking if I could be there as close to 7 am as possible.  Rushed shower,  thrown on clothes, super fast/simple make-up, not quite all the way done blow dry, and grab a pop tart as I'm running out the door is not the way I like to start my day.  Then I spent the next 7 hours working in an unfamiliar kitchen with unfamiliar people doing an unfamiliar task (they have a salad bar & ala carte bar because of the high school).  Top that of with a particular co-worker who was making me 18 kinds of crazy and it was not a good day.

Much to my chagrin, the head cook asked if I could work again Thursday and the Monday and Tuesday of the next week.  I reluctantly said yes (but kept the reluctance entirely to myself).  This is the lady who will decide how much & where I work.  Don't want to get on her bad side.

At 6:30 Wednesday morning she called again.  Could I work 10 to 2 that day?  Yeah.  Sure.  Love to.  Groan.

Much to my surprise and delight, I enjoyed myself Wednesday.  I was separated from the particular co-worker and found out I'm not alone in my deep seated irritation when ever she's around.  Because of the minor amount of familiarity, today went much better, too.   Happily, I do like working there now.  I'll be happy to get back to my small kitchen and small school, but it's no longer an unwelcome change.

This is a much larger school so instead of there only being 2 of us, there are 5 for most of the day & 2 more come in shortly before lunch.  Since I'm the newbie, I get to make salads- a simple task.  But the person I've been replacing is not the salad girl.  Today the break down went something like this:  I was Marcy.  Marcy was Missy.  Missy was Sherry.  Sherry was gone & I was taking her place.  Oh, and Tara was gone too so Tanya was Tara.  At least I wasn't the only one seriously confused.  Everyone had trouble remembering who they were supposed to be today.

I was happy to get off work and just be FarmWife again.  But the bosco sticks weren't bad.

Send help, they're all starving.

I did not go to the grocery yesterday. In fact, Husband is going to bring home a gallon of milk after work tonight so we don't have to grocery shop until Sunday afternoon.  Do you have any idea what this means?  It means my children might actually starve to death in the interim.

Yes, we're down to a single frozen pizza (as opposed to the two or three that are normally there). We're completely out of apples.  We only have 2/3s of a box of Gogurt left in the freezer.  There's less than a cup of pancake syrup in the bottle.  We may even run out of Pop Tarts before the day is over.  As you can tell, the situation is rather dire.  As you can also tell, we're totally health nuts when it comes to what we eat (yes, I am a giant liar).

Forget the pounds & pounds & pounds of freshly butchered pork in the freezers. Forget the cans & cans of veggies in the pantry.  Forget the 2 loaves of whole wheat bread in the bread box.  We're running low on chocolate chip granola bars!

My poor children.  I hope they make it through the night.  At least there's still microwave pop corn....like 25 bags of the stuff.  Remind me not to put it on my shopping list.

Wanted: LOTR Expert

Wanted to hire for a week or two: Someone with intimate knowledge of the entire Lord of the Rings world both literary & film versions. Must have in depth knowledge of the inner workings of the minds of both J.R.R. Tolkien & Peter Jackson.

Job Description: To sit with my children & watch the movies over & over again while answering their every question no matter how obvious or obscure no matter how many times they may ask the same question.

I kid you not, BabyGirl alone must have asked no less than 200 questions tonight while watching Return of the King. That's not counting the 75 questions a piece shot out by her brothers before their bedtime came around.

"Why does Smeagol hate Sam?"
"Why doesn't Frodo believe Sam about Smeagol being bad?"
"I thought Smeagol told Gollum to go away & never come back. Why is he back?"
"Why is it so hard for Frodo to walk?"
"Why does Frodo have to go with the elves?"
"Why are the elves tall? I thought they were supposed to be short."
"Why are the Hobbits' pants so short?"
"Is the king of the ghost army the same dead guy who tried to pull Frodo down into the swamp?"
"Sam carried the ring for a while. Why isn't he going with the Elves?"
"Doesn't Frodo have a life with Sam in the Shire? Why does he have to go with the Elves?"
"Why are Gollums eyes so big?"
"Why is Gandalf white now? I thought the white wizard was bad."
"Why won't Gollum eat the bread?"
"Wouldn't they die if they got that close to the lava?"
"Is Frodo just dreaming or is Gladriel really there?"
"Why wasn't Aragon already king?"
"Why can't a man kill the Nazgul?"
"Why do they call Peregrin 'Pippin'?"
"Why is that guy trying to set his son on fire? Can't he tell he's still alive?"
"What is that giant red eye thing?"
"I thought Isildur killed Sauron. How can he be coming back?"
"How old is that guy playing Frodo?"
"Do you think he's really a pretty happy guy in real life or is he really sad like Frodo at the end?"

Understand my problem? And that's only a portion of what was asked tonight...and only while watching the last movie. I thought I had a decent working knowledge of the story having seen the movies a few times, the cartoons many times, and having read the books a time or two...but no. My kids need to know what size shoes Hobbits would wear if Hobbits ever took up shoe wearing. Next time we watch them I'm going to take a nerve pill first & just make crap up as I go along.

Mother Nature's Hot Flash didn't so much "Flash" as "Pull up a Chair & Stay for Dinner."

I am so over this summer. I know I griped about the cold & snow all winter but I've had about all of the 90+ degree, 90% + humidity days I can handle. The heat has taken on a nearly malicious tone lately. It's no longer just a hot, muggy summer. It's beginning to feel like the heat is malevolent & intentional. I fear I may accidentally boil the FarmHands in their swimming pool.

Last week they wanted me to empty the ice trays into the pool. Unfortunately, it would have been far too little far too late. This week we have only made it out of doors before 5 o'clock once...and that dip was very short lived. My skin felt like it would blister just walking from the clothes line to the pool.

We've been cloistered in doors for the past 3 weeks or so. Hours of Wii, Disney Channel, coloring, and Little People play sets have been our salvation. Well, less like salvation and more like a desperate attempt to keep sanity in the general vicinity. I'm not going for improvement of their minds at this point. I'm going for please don't let them murder & eat one and other. Especially since it's too hot to cook & they'd be eating their siblings raw. Ewww.

Next week is Vacation Bible School at church. With no end in sight to this oppressive heat, that means 2-3 hours a night, all week long, in a sweltering building crammed with 50 or so sweating, sticky children and 30-40 exhausted & nearly dehydrated adults. I'm beginning to think we need to move VBS to the middle of October. Please pray we have a good week & no one melts into a pew. They're solid wood antiques. Oh, and we really like the kids better when they don't have to be scraped into a bucket to be returned to their parents.

(Disclaimer: I really do love the week of VBS as much as I may will gripe about the heat, noise, amount of work, craziness, and exhaustion. I'm teaching 3rd & 4th grades again this year & I hope & pray some kids, who wouldn't hear it any other way, will learn about the love of Christ!)

Give the kid a break, please.

B.B. is very tender hearted. He cries at the drop of a hat, so I'm sure you can imagine what he was like when we told him Grandma-great passed away.

When Grandma B. died he sobbed for about 15 minutes while I talked to him & rocked him. Eventually he calmed down & went to get ready for school. As he walked away, he turned around & asked, "Which one was Grandma B. again?" That's what happens when your mother collects grandparents & you're born into a big, long lived family.

At Grandma-great's funeral Thursday, he really struggled. He really wanted to see her body to say goodbye, but couldn't stop sobbing long enough to speak to her. It didn't help that Husband and I fell apart, too.

Death is hard on him. Much harder than it is on the other FarmHands. So Saturday morning when he found Emmett (our parakeet) dead on the floor of his cage, I wasn't sure he'd be able to handle it at all.

B.B. fell apart. Husband suggested we go get a new bird that afternoon. B.B. said no, not yet. Instead he wanted to take Emmett outside & bury him by Andrew (our dog). I dug the grave while B.B., Bitsy, and #1 Son took turns holding (read: fighting over) Emmett's body. We buried him, made a cross from sticks in the yard, and picked bunches of flowers to decorate the grave. On our way up the drive from getting flowers B.B. wanted to call everyone who's ever met Emmett to come over so we could have a big funeral for him.

Yesterday we had to go to a small graveside ceremony for a woman who went to our church when Husband was a boy. B.B. didn't know her, but being just a few feet away from Grandma-great's grave, I was worried how he'd handle it. He did just fine (aside for some crying that it was too hot & he needed to sit down & why were we even there if we didn't even know her).

I think he needs a break. A few months with no more death. Is that too much to ask?

Letting Go.

This is probably the strangest thing I've ever asked you all, but I ask it in all seriousness. Will you please pray that God would take Grandma in Country soon? It's not that we don't love her or that we don't want her with us. It's that we don't want her to suffer any longer.

She has been unable to eat for quite a while. The last food she had, that I know of, was 2 bites of gravy last Tuesday. She cannot drink because she's aspirating everything into her lungs. She has been unconscious (with the exception of a brief amount of time on Friday) for at least 5 days. A catheter had to be used to drain her bladder on Saturday because it was distended. She doesn't have the strength to talk, hold a hand, or open her eyes more than a tiny bit every few days. She's on morphine for pain and oxygen to aid her rapid breathing. Husband's aunts are keeping constant vigil at her bedside to swab out her mouth, dress her bedsore, check her diaper, and try to keep her as comfortable as possible. I know they would keep vigil as long as necessary if it meant keeping their mother with them, but I also know Grandma would be much better off in Heaven.

We haven't had the kids in to see her at all because I would much rather they remember Grandma-great (as they call her) the way she was in church giving them their gum & Sunday School money every week. And to be honest, she looks horrible. It's a terrible feeling to see someone laying in a hospital bed just a shell of their former self & I don't want my kids to have that memory. With Grandma, the change has been gradual, but it's dramatic none the less. When Husband and I were married she was a very large woman. My estimate for her weight would be upwards of 250 pounds. Currently she's probably around 70 pounds. She is so frail & wasted that I fear it would frighten the FarmHands more than comfort them.

Husband went to see her Friday when I was in town & his aunts tell me Grandma opened her eyes and spoke for the first time in days shortly after he arrived. She told everyone she loved them (out loud as opposed to just mouthing the way she'd been doing for weeks before she took her turn for the worst) and hugged everyone there. SIL took her kids by to see her Friday and Grandma hugged them, too. She must've been somewhat lucid on & off that afternoon. But that was the last time.

I know asking for prayers for someone to die may not seem like the kindest or most loving thing to do, but I know that Grandma knows and loves Jesus. I know that when she dies, it will only be an ending here on Earth and that she will be hole and healthy in Heaven. I know that Grandpa is waiting for her having gone ahead of her about 5 years ago. I know that the Lord will be waiting for her with open arms. What I'm asking is for her, not for us.

You can go, Grandma. We love you and we'll see you again someday. When you get there, could you give my love to Grandma B.? I'm sure you two will have a nice long chat.

Updated at 6:15 pm- Husband's cousin just posted this on Facebook:

my grandma is still hanging on..but only very little. Heart is working twice as hard, labored breathing. Respirations are low and pulse is around 115-120. This has taken its toll on all the family emotionally, mentally, and physically.

The beginning of a long, long, long week.

Tomorrow we leave on vacation.

Yes, I know we're certifiable leaving in the middle of Memorial Day weekend, but it just happened this way. Don't judge.

This vacation has taken on a life of it's own. Back in January (maybe) Husband started talking about taking the FarmHands to Chattanooga to see the aquarium & Look Out Mountain. I was all for it. He suggested we call QM & Daddy to meet us there, stay a few nights, then go back up to their house as a stop on the way home.

Just as vacation time was being set aside & hotels were being searched for, MIL and FIL asked if we'd like to meet up with them in Gatlinburg at their time share during that week. A few weeks & a lot of morphing later & we're starting our trip off with them & finishing it off with QM & Daddy, Princess, Axl, & H.T. in Cave City, KY.

This is the part of the post where I beg for prayers. Prayers for patience, for a total lack of motion sickness, for a safe journey, for a pleasant time, for calmed tempers all around, for good weather, for precise navigation, and for fun. Things can be tense with the In-Laws (please, no snide remarks in the comments about this) but I know the kids really need this time with their grandparents. I'm praying that this week comes with a bit of healing between Husband and his father (that's been a strained relationship for years) and a lot of calmness for me. I'm also praying that HT & Bitsy love Dinosaur World as much as the older FarmHands did last time we were there. There's been some serious build-up to it.

I really am looking forward to this trip. Tomorrow night we're staying in Lexington in order to split the 8 hour drive to Gatlinburg in half...then after that it's time to Vacation like there's no tomorrow. Dixie Stampede, Dollywood, an aquarium, caves, dinosaurs, mountains and no less than 5 Google Maps printed in preparation.

In conclusion, please pray for us all...and if you get bored while I'm gone, you can check out the last time we went on a grand adventure:
Vacation: Take One
Vacation: Take Two
Vacation: Take Three
And finally: Things I learned on vacation

Hmmmm, I wonder if The Golgotha Fun Park is still for sale.

An abundance of time.

Shortly before Christmas, we moved the computer into our bedroom. We are one of those quaint families with only a desk top that must stay in close proximity to our phone jacks. Since Husband naps a great deal during the day to make up for the total lack of sleep he gets at night, I have had to curb my Internet usage severely. And guess what. I'm not dead, yet.

It's amazing. You'd think I would have all this free time left since I'm not spending hours a day browsing places like www.cakewrecks.com and www.lamebook.com and www.savagechickens.com and the like. You'd think I would suddenly become an uber-productive member of society knitting hats for war widows and teaching blind orphans the states and their capitals. But instead I've been sucked into the worlds of Doctor Who, Firefly, Criminal Minds, and anything involving classic literature translated to film.

Someone help me before I turn into a couch cushion.

I am still doing Zumba at least 5 days a week. I only skip it on days when I've been very busy or spent the entire day cleaning house (that counts as cardio, doesn't it?).

It hasn't helped that we've spent most of the past few weeks snowed in in some form or another and that the FarmHands have been housebound making us all a bit testy. And I figure there's little to no point in really cleaning my house when my children are trapped inside and will just come behind me and destroy everything I've struggled to accomplish.

They went back to school today for the first time since Monday and I spent a full hour folding laundry. Just folding. Not washing or drying or ironing. After that I crashed like a 18 wheeler on black ice and spent most of the day vegging out in front of the telly (yes, I said telly. Sue me. Or sue the BBC since I've been watching it all afternoon). But I'm sure that had nothing to do with the hours spent on the couch last night when a certain small girl decided sleep was for wimps and instead we were going to, "Count all our letters."

Tomorrow is town day and I feel I must accomplish something. Even if it is a very small something....like putting away the laundry I folded today. Just kidding. I'm making the FarmHands do that.

Praying for Jacob

I have a prayer request. I've discovered that my blogging friends, regardless of their beliefs, are some of the best people in the world to bring this kind of thing to. I have friends from college I've reconnected with on Facebook. One couple, Korey and James, have a 12 year old son named Jacob (no aliases today). Jacob was born with some pretty severe birth defects and health problems. His doctors didn't think Jacob would survive to see his first birthday. He did. He far surpassed any life expectancy the doctors gave him.

I do not know all of Jacob's story, but I do know his life has been a battle. His mother became a nurse so she could better care for him and better fight for his health. He suffers from seizures and can quit breathing. AT 12 years old, his development is near that of a 9 month olds.

Last week Jacob began seizing. He was admitted to the hospital. Today he is in the ICU on a ventilator and 100% O2. He has RSV and is not doing well. Please pray for him, his parents and his older brother. Things do not look good.

And Deliver us from Christmas Vacation.....

I'm terrified. My phobia does not revolve around spiders, heights, or snakes. It's entirely hinged on the idea of my children being stuck in my house for 2 weeks at Christmas break.

You see, they've lost their ever lovin' little minds. They've spent the last few weeks trying to kill each other. Everyone hates everyone else. No one ever does anything wrong. Every bad thing is someone else's fault. The thought of having them all in the house 24 hours a day for 2 weeks is daunting.

Every morning, Bitsy and I get the kids up, get them ready, and drop them at school. Then Bitsy, Husband, and I have a fairly quite day. Husband sleeps. Bitsy watches Max & Ruby. I do my chores, surf the web, read, catch up on Criminal Minds, or nap on the couch. The only time we argue is when Husband tries to kiss me & Bitsy must intervene ("No! My Mommy! No kiss my mommy!").

When the bus pulls up at a few minutes after four, the peaces is promptly shattered. Three kids scream their way up the drive way and into the house leaving a wake of shoes, jackets, back packs, and lunch boxes behind them. They each have a shoe box and a coat hook that they always seem to forget about. The next hour is spent arguing over snacks, homework, candy, who touched whom, and anything else they can think up to fight about.

I'm wondering how much a full time Nanny would cost us over the holidays. Or some kind of seasonal boarding school for delinquents. Or even an ex-Marine drill Sergent. Yeah, I like that last idea a lot.

It's the most wonderful time of the year.

If you're all about clouds and rain and crazy people knocking each other down in the store to get to the last pig in a tea cup or what ever the must have toy of the season is. OK, so I really do love Christmas. I'm just having a bit of a tough time gearing up for it this year. I know I'll get there eventually, but for now I just want to nap....a lot.

But I do have a plan. On Friday I'm going to try and find myself a new Christmas table cloth for our dining room table. I inherited a few from Grandma M&M when we got the table, but one is way too small (I think it's actually supposed to be on the table Princess has) and the other is for when we open the table out to seat 16 for family dinners. I need one for everyday when the table only seats 6. And I need something that smells Christmasy...like a cinnamon candle or the like.

Until then, I'm heading to http://www.shabbyblogs.com/ to pimp out my blog St.Nick style. They have 25 or more adorable Christmas designs to choose from & they're really easy to use.

For now I need a little help from you all. How do you get into the Christmas spirit? Do you have a favorite CD you pop in? A DVD to watch? A cookie to bake? Help jump start me, please.




Lyrics - WE NEED A LITTLE CHRISTMAS lyrics

Come out, come out, whomever you are.

I am horribly un-inspired in the blogging department of late....as can be seen in my last mindless post about Netflix, HBO, and my DVR. I fear I may have bored my audience of 4 to death with that one....except for Kork, but then Kork always has a response to my drivel.

So I have decided to momentarily re-open that old favorite- Ask FarmWife Day. If you're new here or need a refresher, you can click on the label at the bottom of this post to find past versions of Ask FarmWife.

Hit me with your best shot!!

(Oh, and this would be a great time to de-lurk...hint, hint, hint.)

On today's Memoirs: Mini-Van Adultry. What's your stance?

There has been a loss & a new addition to the Farm Family. Hank, Husband's Silverado, has gone to live with another, smaller family...as soon as the dealership finds one for him. And Babe has come to take his place.

Hank had transmission problems earlier in the year and Husband has been suspicious of Hank's intentions since. Going anywhere in Hank means finding a baby sitter, so that's a mark against him. So Hank lost his place of honor. Personally, I had nothing against him, but he wasn't My Truck.

Husband picked out Babe all by himself on Tuesday while I was getting the FarmHands ready to drive 80 minutes to see a doctor for 3 minutes and turn around and drive home. Yesterday, he took me to meet her, sign her papers and bring her home.

It was love at first sight.

I love Babe. I love her shiny blue exterior. I love her dual sliding power doors. I love her touch screen media center (although I think I need a class on how to use it). I love her Fold and Go seats. I love, love, love her Sirius XM radio. The FarmHands (and by association, I) love her dual flip down DVD players. In fact, the only thing (thus far) that I do not love about her is the lack of auto headlights (that's just weird...she has a 30 GB hard drive but manual headlights).


But part of me feels horribly guilty because we seem to be leaving Mammy out in the dust...literally. I drove her into town today to register the FarmHands for school. I was all alone in her massive interior sans car seats. The kids' CD wallet has been taken out of her door & is about to be stashed away in Babe's interior. The kids' blankets are no longer tucked safely under her seats but are instead, hidden away in Babe's Fold & Go storage bins. She is an empty shell. And I'm pretty sure she knows why.

I remember just how much in love with Mammy I was in the beginning. She was our protector. She was our home on wheels as it were. And now we have demoted her to Driving-Dad-to-Work mode and parked her in the space farthest from the house so Babe can be away from the acorns that will be falling very soon.
I'm cheating on my first mini-van love with a new, younger, fancier version of her. Poor Mammy has to sit in the drive way & watch. I still love her. Unfortunately, she doesn't ride quite as smooth as Babe and I have children prone to motion sickness (not to mention the Pimp-My-Ride aspects of Babe).

I hope she can find it in her internal combustion heart to forgive me and continue to serve us well...even if she has to sleep next to that flashy floozy every night.

What exactly is my damage?

I woke up at five thirty Friday morning, anxious to get on the road. Anxious to spend the day with Art. Anxious to get to my Grandma M&M's house. Anxious to see Diana. None of this anxiety was truly a bad thing. Maybe anxiety is the wrong word. Excited? Stoked? I'm not sure. But regardless of what you want to call it, I wanted to get going.

It's now shortly after four in the morning and I'm sitting in Diana's dark living room blogging after having soaked in a hot bath for about thirty minutes. I cannot sleep. I haven't really slept. A little light dozing here and there, but nothing truly substantial. Honestly, I'm a bit worried about how I'm going to function when daylight hours arrive. And no, I did not take another Bi-Polar in a bottle. I learned my lesson the last time.

It's not my accommodations. I just do not sleep well in new environments. Add stomach issues due to travel, stress, emotional overload, and feminine issues, and I'm a hot mess at four twenty am.

I'm really having a great time. Art & I made a stop at our favorite local coffee shop. We ran to Wally World for supplies. We cranked up the tunes and eased on down the road. There was a brief (but much needed) visit with Grandma & Grandpa M&M at their house and then we got to the land of DuckI (as we called Diana in high school).

Chinese for dinner. Mani-Pedi's for dessert. A quick browse through Barns & Noble, then back here to visit some more and laugh until we nearly peed our pants at odd SNL skits on Hulu. We finally gave up & turned in a little after one thirty.

I'm not sure how long I laid there praying for sleep to come before I gave up & headed to the bath (thank goodness it's at the opposite end of the house from the guest room Art & I are sharing and downstairs from Diana's room). Even a giant book of Dilbert comics couldn't lull me into a state of relaxation.

I just want to sleep. Is that too much to ask?

One night in nine years when I do not have a child to take care of and I can't unwind enough to enjoy the big bed Art and I have to laze about in.

Sleep, you fickle wench. Why have you deserted me? Don't even think about trying to needle your way back into my affections tomorrow. By then my break will be over and I shall have to return to the world of mothering where you are a second class citizen, only allowed to show your face when there is nothing else to occupy my time.

(A brief note on the title: "Damage" was my favorite early 90's slang that never really caught on. I first heard it used in the movie Buffy the Vampire Slayer & have been forever saddened by it's fall to the wayside.)

Lovely.

QM is on her way to our neck of the woods with HT in tow. Saturday is #1 Son's seventh birthday. He also has a t-ball game that day. Bucka's birthday party is Saturday as well. I'm in charge of getting everything ready for it. A massive amount of friends & family are coming to town to be here for it.

This morning, B.B. woke up vomiting.

Please pray that B.B. gets better very soon & doesn't share his creeping crud (as QM calls it) with the rest of the FarmHands. I hate it when the kids are ill. And it's doubly bad when we're crazy busy & cannot really cancel our plans.

I REALLY don't want #1 Son to be sick on his birthday. We've been down that road before & it's not fun.

Giving you the run down

We've thrown in the proverbial towel on the play set....at least until this weekend. All that's left is the swing set portion. Since they already have a swing set, it was saved till last.

Friday B.B., Bitsy and I are headed to the STL for B.B.'s post-op follow up. Inkling is lounging about in St. Louis at her parent's house awaiting an appointment to start her state side treatment for the birth injuries she suffered when Grasshopper made his grand entrance to the world. That means I'm going to get to see my favorite Canadian cousin!!

Unfortunately, she's reached the point where she cannot wait for Canada's health care system to decide she can have her "elective surgery" so she can heal properly. That means she & Henry David had to make the tough decision to send her home to get the help she needs. The good thing is, this means she will be getting help instead of waiting & jumping through hoops. It also means she'll have the support of her family while recovering. But it means she'll have to spend time away from her husband as he'll have to get home to work.

It also means they have to come up with the money for her surgery out of pocket. If you can & would like to help them out, she has put a Pay Pal button on her public blog. I know she & Henry David would be very thankful.... as would I.

So now I have to crawl my way out from under the mess my house has become since Spring Sprung around here. It's tough to keep up an immaculate (ha!) home when you're spending all your time pulling weeds, playing in the yard, gathering eggs, and riding ATVs. Somehow, when we're not here, the house ends up messier than when we are here. Go figure. I'm sure spending 2 days straight doing laundry hasn't helped....although the giant pile of pretty new towels in my linen closet, thanks to QM, makes me very happy.

And with that, I'm off. Enjoy.

Help! I am officially uninspired.

Yes, this is a total cry for help & attention. I am at a loss. Facebook has taken over my life & I've discovered it's becoming more difficult for me to think in blog posts as opposed to status updates. I have a flash of brilliance I want to share with the world, but then realize my brilliance won't even make a full paragraph. I credit this to late onset Mommy-brain.

So I'm asking my darling readers for help; re-instituting the old favorite, Ask FarmWife. What would you like to know about me? About the FarmHands? About my feelings on the three newest Star Wars movies? About fixing things with duct tape & bailing twine?

Hit me!

Recipe for a stressed FarmWife

• One part worry about Bucka
• One part exhaustion
• One part lengthy to-do list
• One part first night away from Bitsy
• One part uncertainty about the next few days
• One part serious kink in my neck & shoulders
• One part feeling a bit icky for the past 3 days
• 15 parts unnecessary stress over B.B.'s surgery (but it's Mama's job to worry over these things).

I can do this. I can't do it on my own. God can get me through this. He'll take care of my little man. He'll take care of me. He'll take care of the Queen Mother as she suddenly becomes "a single mother" to BabyGirl, Bitsy, #1 Son, and HT for a few days.

I have the wonderful love of my Blessed Redeemer way down in the depths of my heart!

But I'd really love it if you'd pray for us all.